BIO: J. A. Rohrer, Tillard Pen Pictures, 1911, Blair County, PA Contributed April 2003 for use in the USGenWeb Archives by Judy Banja Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/blair/ _________________________________________ Pen Pictures of Friends and Reminiscent Sketches by J. N. Tillard Altoona, PA: William F. Gable & Co., Mirror Press, 1911 Has Made Pain a Pleasure Genial Laughing DR. J. A. ROHRER Converted Dentist's Chair from Instrument of Torture to Welcome Relief from Suffering READERS who are old enough to remember when the days of dentistry was largely confined to tooth pulling, and a visit to that functionary was not to be thought of unless forced upon the attention by the excruciating agony of an aching molar, will be able to recall to their minds that the personality of the tooth puller was a matter of some consequence. Even the children, whose first teeth were being pushed out of place by the second crop, had most decided preferences as to who should give the gentle jerk on the string that was fastened about the loose little bit of ivory. It did not hurt nearly so much if there was a jolly or loving face behind the hand that performed the operation. Sometimes it was father who could coax it out the easiest, sometimes it was mother, and not infrequently grandma was selected as dentist. There surely is something in the individuality of those who minister to pain that renders their presence welcome, inspires confidence and takes away the terror of the cruel operation, and this is probably one of the reasons why Dr. J. A. Rohrer has been so successful in the practice of his profession. He was born in the "Big Valley," Mifflin County, and endowed with a big frame that was tenanted by a big heart. This has always been reflected on his genial, kindly countenance, and it has doubtless helped marvelously in his operation in the torture chamber, especially before the devices were invented that make people go to the dentist for purposes of recreation. Now, if the nearest dentist in a country town had a visage like a meat axe and the set of his jaws looked as cruel as the grasp of forceps, the lancing pains that came from the decayed tooth had to about reach the limit of human endurance before the sufferer could be induced to approach the door of the inquisitor and submit to the ordeal of his dreaded operations. But the man or woman, or even boy or girl, who passed by the dental parlors of Dr. Rohrer in Lewistown in 1860, and got a glimpse of the cheery, laughing face of the young dentist, would naturally think that his trade must not be so very bad after all, else he would not engage in it. And so when the tooth ached they went to him with the feeling that they were going to a healer, instead of an execution, and the real pain never lasted long, because it carried with it no pangs of anticipation. But one day the young doctor heard a call to sterner duty than that of pulling teeth, for there swept up the Juniata Valley the news that our country was about to be torn asunder, and the martial sounds of the drum and fife were heard in the quiet streets of the old town; and, forsaking his newly acquired professional practice, he shouldered a musket and marched away to draw the fangs of rebellion. Without rancor or hate in his heart, he was as good a soldier as he was a dentist, but he was soon to feel the pangs of pain himself, for at the battle of Fredericksburg, he received a wound that for more than a year prevented him from engaging in any active pursuit in life and prevented him from returning to the ranks. In 1864 he moved to Hollidaysburg and in the capital of Blair County became a well-known figure. He continued to shed about him the light of geniality and good fellowship, and he grew and prospered. But after awhile the growing town over the hill beckoned to the doctor and twenty-three years ago he moved his lares et penates to Altoona, and the town gained a good citizen. For eighteen years of this time he has been doing business in the jaw-fitting line at 1107 Twelfth Avenue, and has been known and loved of all men. In recent years he has summoned his son to his assistance and confines his own efforts more to the laboratory than to the operating chair, but, barring two years that he served his fellow-citizens as county treasurer, he has been on the job at the old stand. While the doctor has always been an ardent Republican, this is the only time that he has shared in the loaves and fishes, and if all communities had been served by so honest a purveyor of the aforesaid loaves and fishes they would have been fortunate. Speaking of his Republicanism, thereby hangs a tale. The doctor did not inherit his politics, by any means, for his father was an ardent Democrat of the old school. But the doctor did inherit sound sense, the ability to think for himself and the courage of his convictions, and when the time came for him to take an active part in the affairs of government he began to think it over. Those were stirring days and great issues were involved, and political beliefs were not to be lightly accepted. While he had profound faith in the wisdom of his ancestors and due filial regard for the views of his father, he felt that conditions were changing and a great struggle was impending which involved the fundamental principles of human liberty. While his father might have been right in his day, there was a possibility that changed conditions demanded a change of political faith and he accordingly cast his first ballot for Andrew Curtin. When he approached the polls, his youthful appearance caused the board to challenge his right to vote and he was obliged to summon his father to testify to his age. They both passed their ballots in at the same time, the old gentleman never suspecting that his son had abandoned the political faith of his fathers, but the members of the board were easily able to distinguish the character of the tickets and, after recovering from their surprise, the doctor, as he turned away from the window, heard them remark that "the young fellow had killed his father's vote." The old gentleman remained blissfully unconscious of his son's dereliction, and, not wishing to wound him, the young doctor kept his own counsel, and it was not until the presidential election arrived and the young man had cast his vote for Abraham Lincoln that the father discovered his political tendencies, and then his wrath for a short time was great, for these were days when men held political convictions with all the strength of a religious creed. But the doctor believed he was right and stood by his guns, and he has probably never regretted his action. In any case, he has had the approval of his conscience and preserved his manhood. All his life he has walked the straight path of conviction and he is too old to change his habits now and will probably preserve his individuality to the end, and none of his friends would wish him any different than ha is. #